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sacr1ficialang3l · 1 day ago

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walking to a house, not a home. (but my home is you)✧.*

SAM WINCHESTER X READER

SUMMARY: She's so used to hiding her pain, but Sam and Dean show her that she doesn't have to anymore. 2.0k

WARNINGS: mentions of self-harm (scratching). allusions to an unhealthy home environment. a little angsty but with a fluffy end. fem!reader.

NOTES: I had an awful day yesterday and I wrote this with puffy eyes and a headache at three am. pretty shorter than what I usually write but anyways. English is not my first language! Enjoy<3

Your body shakes with every sob that vibrates through your chest as you curl up in a little ball, laying down on the floor in the corner of the empty motel room.

Even though your chest burns like it is being torn apart and your throat aches with all the pain you are swallowing down, not a sound leaves your mouth. You had learned from a very young age how to cry in silence. You had perfected the right way to breathe —first through your nose and then through your mouth so there's no sniffing— the correct way to reduce your sobs and sometimes wails to only a throbbing rumble down on your ribs, not even letting them reach your throat. You had found out that if you dug your nails into your thighs, even dragging them down your leg until you drew blood, it kept even the worst of noises away.

And old habits die hard, you guess. Because now, years after you had left the home house you grew up in, when you could cry and weep and scream all you wanted and no one would say anything, your mouth stays sealed tightly.

You tremble like a leaf in the wind, arms pathetically wrapped around your knees like the grip will somehow keep you together. When the pressure on your chest starts to feel a little too strong, like someone has a hand around your heart and is trying to rip it out, your fingernails finally puncture the tender skin of your thighs.

The pain offers a momentary but also addictive relief. Your throat untightens a bit and your brain shuts up for a second. It won’t last long and it isn’t healthy, but it is the only way you know how to not lose yourself to the voices in your head.

You are so distracted by the pain, both physical and emotional, that you don’t notice when Sam and Dean walk through the door. You had assumed they would spend all night at the bar you left them in, where you gave them a plastic smile you had also perfected long ago and claimed to be too sleepy to stay up with them, making sure to keep your voice steady, your eyes bright and your fists unclenched. It had always worked with everyone else.

You should have known by now that the Winchester brothers weren’t everyone else.

You nearly break Sam’s nose when he suddenly kneels in front of you and takes one of your hands off your thigh. He dodges the punch with the reflexes of someone who’s been in fight-or-flight mode since the moment he became aware of his existence, but his expression remains gentle.

You try to wipe away your tears with your other hand, but Sam quickly grabs it too. There is blood under your nails this time, and Sam studies it for a moment. You open your mouth, trying to justify yourself. Anything, say anything. You watched a sad movie, you hit your toe really hard against the leg of the bed, it was that time of the month. Anything but reality.

Before you can even start to mumble and stumble through half-assed excuses, Sam looks into your eyes with the softest look you had ever seen on him.

“You can actually cry now, you know?” You look at him with wide, startled eyes.

“Yeah, we promise not to make too much fun of you.” Dean adds, his always present teasing tone still there but lighter. You look up at him where he was sitting on the bed, and his expression changes to a more serious one when he takes in how red your cheeks are from rubbing your face and how raw your lips are from biting them. “You are safe now.”

“You can let go.” Sam leans in a little closer, just enough so that it makes your breath hitch, your throat contracting and your eyes glossing over again. “You don’t have to keep quiet here. We got you, so let go of all of it. Just let go.”

You try shaking your head. No, your pain has always been such an imposition. You are a reverse Midas, every single thing you touch becomes sick with sadness. Everything around you turns gray and burns down into ashes when you let go. You couldn’t let that happen to this. To them. To your boys.

They are the life ring you had found when you were so close to drowning, and now you are about to destroy them too.

“I don’t—”

But it is too late. The brothers’ words echo in your head and your face scrunches up against your will. The first sound that leaves your mouth is choked and rusty, and then you can’t stop. You bury your face back in between your knees, but now each of your sobs resound through the small room. You don’t even recognize the noises that rip themselves out of your throat. Every single whimper, hiccup, and gasp escapes you violently, leaving a scorching sensation inside. It’s as if they’d been subjugated for so long, they were desperate to make their way to freedom.

The boys don’t say anything else, just stay there in silence. You thought that crying in front of them would make you feel even more pathetic than you already do, but it actually doesn’t. It is liberating, letting it all out while they are with you. It makes you feel less alone, less scared. Like you won’t be consumed by the ghosts of your past, because you have someone to pull you out. You are showing them the ugliest, most disgusting part of you, and they still stay.

You try to pull your hands back from Sam’s grasp. You didn’t even feel like hurting yourself anymore, but you need the reassurance that even if you did, he wouldn’t let you. And he doesn’t. He keeps his hands wrapped around yours tightly, not letting you move even an inch.

“No, pretty girl. Let’s not do that.”

The nickname only makes you sob harder. You are sure you look anything but pretty right now, face wet and dirty with mascara running down your cheeks, eyes red and puffy, snot smeared on the edge of your shirt. But Sam doesn’t seem to care, he still calls you pretty. When the shaky gasps get a little quicker, a little more consecutive, a little too close to hyperventilating, Sam moves again.

But this time he pulls you against his chest. You are so surprised that you stop bawling for a second. He drags you into his lap and moves until his back is resting against the wall you were previously leaning against. He wraps a hand around the back of your neck and guides your face to his neck, not minding the fact that you will inevitably soak his shirt with tears. His other hand remains around both your wrists, solid and safe.

“Breath with me, baby. Follow my lead.”

Baby, your mind registers between all of the pain. He called you baby.

There are more pressing matters at the moment, like the fact that your breath is getting more and more ragged, so you decide to deal with that later.

You press your chest to Sam’s, focusing on the rise and fall of his exaggeratedly deep breaths. You try to inhale when he does, exhale when he does. Your attention on the way your chests move in unison, the touch of his fingertips on your nape, the way his voice sounded when he called you pretty and baby.

You don’t know for how long you two stay like that, but by the time you drag your face away from the crook of Sam’s neck and force yourself to face him, your breath is back to normal and you have stopped crying.

You’re still sniffling when you meet his eyes, shivers running down your spine from the exhaustion and the slight breeze coming from the open door. But at least you’re not tearing up anymore.

Apparently, Dean left at some point to buy some food, and he is just now coming back. That means that you had spent a long time sitting there on Sam’s lap. You are sure that will haunt you once you can actually process what it means. But right now, you are just exhausted and ready to eat something before going to sleep and forgetting this ever happened.

But Sam insisted on cleaning up the scratches on your thighs, even though most of them aren’t even deep enough to actually need cleaning. There are three angry red lines with dried blood around them in one of your legs, though, so you begrudgingly let Sam play nurse.

It is only once you are sitting on one of the beds, with a blanket around your shuddering frame and a whole box of four chocolate donuts with sprinkles on your lap —“You need to replenish your sugar after all that, princess. Eat.”— that the shame finally washes over you.

You bite down on your lip harshly, already dreading the whole situation. You want to apologize, convince them to forget the whole thing even happened, maybe cry some more. You prepare to hide, run away and bury yourself somewhere dark until you feel you’ve pulled yourself together again. But Sam and Dean, always ready to save the day, come to the rescue before your brain can get too cruel.

Dean clicks his tongue and shakes his head, while Sam, who had already finished patching up your barely-there wounds and had taken a seat next to you on the bed, uses his thumb to free your lower lip from your teeth.

They don’t say anything, don’t try to contradict the voices in your head that they know are louder than anything they could say. Instead, Sam pulls you into his arms on the small motel bed and Dean puts on some cheesy rom-com on the tv. Both brothers make silly jokes throughout the film, loudly criticizing the characters and groaning at every cliché. They don’t force you to talk, but they manage to keep the voices at bay.

By the second donut eaten and the fourth time the main characters in the movie almost kiss before being interrupted, you start giggling along. Sam’s arms are firmly wrapped around you, keeping you pressed to his chest long after you stop trembling. You turn slightly and offer him a bite of the donut, both of you laughing when Dean starts grumbling as a musical number begins.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me, man.”

You sigh in contentment, snuggling closer to the comforting warmth of Sam’s body while you start to defend the honor of musicals. Sam presses a kiss to the top of your head then, and it is a lot more intimate than what you usually do. Physical displays of affection between you two usually don’t go further than a slap on the shoulder after a teasing joke or patching each other up after a hunt.

You don’t question it, though. You had craved this for years, even before you had met the brothers. You think your body had been yearning for Sam Winchester from the moment you were put on this earth, an ache rooted deep in your bones that only his touch could soothe. So you don’t move, don’t ask, you just let it happen.

Because maybe you would feel ashamed again tomorrow, and maybe you would wake up with the worst headache the next morning and jeopardize the case, and maybe you weren’t sure what all of this meant for your relationship with Sam, if you were overthinking things or if your feelings were actually reciprocated.

But there is one thing you do know: you had finally broken free from all your restraints. You’ve released the beast you’d kept caged inside for so long, and the Winchesters had welcomed it with open arms. You won’t scare them away, your unrelenting sadness won’t break them, they are too strong for that. You could let go now, you don’t have to hide your pain anymore, because they will be there to catch you.

Here, cradled in Sam’s arms as you bicker with Dean, you are finally home.

NOTES: thank you taylor swift for writing the bridge of dear reader and ruining my life.

TAGS: @littlesoulshine @mostlymarvelgirl @pink-ghost666 @h8aaz @otteropera @xoswiftieprincess @tinas111 <3

If you wanna be tagged in future works, let me know!!

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lucehe · 2 days ago

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MAGIKEY AU BY @quartztwst !!!

"Mr. Spider" --- Yuno

He just wants to overthrow Crowley's agency

Details below sorry I got lazy ehe

Yuki's part

Story

Used to be a police man and beat up the weird guys.

Now having magikey and starting to beat up these weirder guys.

Thinking about kicking Crowley before or break the magikey but failed

However, for some reason, he mostly only showed up in his magical creature form

Abilities

1 - Arrested

Trapping the enemies in the web, Yumo often wonders where the strings come from but didn't complain, it's quite useful that he can just do a lot of stuff with the strings

"Stop moving or the strings will just trapped you more"

2 - Judgement

His scenes were more sensitive, probably because of magic or because of cautiousness.

Also because of his webs, he often set webs on corners you don't see, and if he feels anything, he will know.

"I know you are there, Ace, come out"

3 - Execution

It's just a direct attack that using his weapon to slay against the enemies directly

Don't estimate his strength, he was trained, he will cut your head off if it's necessary.

"Little ones, turn around and don't look back for a while, ok?"

Bonus

It's hard to understand these who corrupted.

Yuno thinks to himself, as he looked at his magikey.

It's black, and silver.

When did this even happened? He isn't sure, nor he really even care.

Well, at least he doesn't feel extremely angry or sad or something negative.

But in case, he still has to be more careful.

"Your name is Yuki, right?"

He found a girl who just got a magikey, what a surprise, to gain such ability in such age

Maybe her healing abilities can do something, well, it's just a possibility.

He will train her, and guide her, slowly.

If anything happened, she, and her new friends, can end him.

This au is so cool hehe

#magikey au #twst family au #twisted wonderland #twst #ディズニー #ディズニーツイステッドワンダーランド #twst yuu #twst oc #fanart #ace trappola #yuu oc #deuce spade #magikey

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sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth · 2 days ago

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Marked (MOC Dean x female reader)

Chapter 2 - Bubbles

Read it on AO3

Mark of Dean series master list

18+. 9.8k words. Explicit sexual content. Some graphic violence. Dubious consent. Unhealthy relationships. Age gap. Sad ending.

You hum along to the music while you look out the window as the landscape roars past. It's flat land out there, farmland, not particularly pretty. Not young and open and fertile like you.

Dean clears his throat, shifts in his seat as he tears his eyes away from your reflection in the rearview mirror, back to the road. Fertile? Jesus Christ, where the fuck did that come from?

Sam has his head lowered in the passenger seat, laptop on his legs. Dean has half a mind to tell him to stop looking at it or he'll get car sick, an old instinct from when Sammy used to get nauseous when it was still John in the driver's seat, Dean in the passenger and his little brother in the back, usually his nose in a book. A long time ago.

Instead, now it's you and Castiel sitting back there. Castiel is looking out the other window, not helping the family on a road trip energy floating around the car. No road trip’s complete without some underlying tension.

Let's see. There's Cas and Sam, who can't get out of Dean's ass for even a second about the Mark and its consequences and their but are you really sure you're okay, Dean? Deep down he knows they are genuinely worried, but when they talk to him that way it makes hot, tantrum-inducing irritation shoot up Dean's spine.

Adding to that, Sam and Cas have, through their shared worry about Dean, formed some kind of best-friends-forever bond. It used to be that Castiel was Dean's buddy, his guardian angel, and while he didn't like that he and Sam never found that kind of closeness, now that they have, he feels awfully on the outside.

He doesn't like it. He hates it actually. Being on the outside of anything makes him feel desperate, lonely, almost immediately. Angry, too, and that might be the Mark, but it's difficult to tell. More difficult than Dean would like to admit, than he has admitted.

And then there's you, of course. Because every friend group needs a couple of dirty secrets, and apparently, you're his. Or he's yours. Something like that.

You seem to be doing absolutely fine, though, because you are, as previously observed, humming. You broke things off with Dean earlier today, as much as there was something to break off, and you said it could never happen again.

And you're fucking humming.

Dean's hand on the steering wheel tightens. He's not mad at you, not really. Well, he is, but there's more that he feels. He still can't look at you without immediately being very aware of what his cock is doing. He cares for you, he really does, always has. He used to be your friend. Can he still be that?

Fuck no, he thinks, shifting again. Never mind whether he can be, he doesn't want to be that. Not that he never appreciated it, he really did. Always thought you were a cute little thing, caught himself feeling almost regretful that you weren't ten years older when he met you, at least halving the difference in years between you, making him feel like not quite such a dirty, old man.

So friend it was, but not because that's who he wanted to be, but because that was the only option. He doesn't want it to sound like he doesn't appreciate you, he doesn't want something else, just something on top of that, him on top of you, soft thighs pressed high on his side, tight pussy taking h–

No, this is exactly the kind of shit he needs to stop. He feels tension low in his stomach. He has half a mind to pull Baby over, drag you out and fuck you right on the hood of the car. You'd like that, he's sure. Would try to find something to hold on to while his thrusts shove you back and forth. Maybe you'd make that sound you made that night. The one that sounds like you're in ecstasy.

Jesus, Dean thinks, runs his hand over his face. Jesus goddamn fucking Christ, he needs to focus. He has a plan after all. It's gonna take a few things to put in place, but he can manage that. He throws you another look in the rearview mirror. And you catch him. Smile at him. The sweetest, loveliest smile he's ever seen.

Maybe he shouldn't do it. It's not a nice plan. But he doesn't know what else to do. He wants what he wants, and he doesn't see why he should deny himself. It's the only fucking thing he ever does, is deny himself. Sure, he has the impulse control of a toddler, but all those things, food, booze, women, they're all just gun powder poured into an open wound, set alight to shut the gash, but never to close it, heal it. He's never wanted anything as much as you.

He looks out the front, and when he glances back, you're looking out the window again. Is this love? he wonders. He's not sure. He loves you, definitely, but is he in love with you? He wants you, he knows that. But is that enough?

His free hand goes to his arm, absent-mindedly, and scratches there. It makes him flinch and he looks down.

He was scratching at the Mark. He can't see it because of the jacket he's wearing, but he knows exactly where it is. Dragging his fingernails along the fabric resting over it. Sweet relief of a constant pain.

That's what fucking you felt like. Like reaching that spot that has been bothering you for an hour and raking your fingers over it. Something so good it makes you close your eyes. His brain was quiet, afterwards. And during it, well…

He was concentrated on you. Mesmerized, more like it. He's never felt that kind of arousal, of lust, that kind of relief. It nearly made him go cross-eyed, that's how good it was. It was the kind of fucking that you hope to find once in your life, and then compare every single encounter ever against. It was like his first blowjob and that time he fucked those twins and washing down the best burger in the world with a long sip of cold beer and when Baby kicks a little when he accelerates and the soft way a knife goes into a bad guy's neck and a hot shower on a cold day, but all rolled into one.

Surely it was the same for you? You were there with him, right?

Surely that must mean something?

You arrive at the motel, check in, one room - it used to be one for Sam and Dean, practiced in sharing, one for you, because, well, Sam and Dean could be a little old fashioned and boys and girls don’t go in the same room seems to be something they have picked up and run with.

You used to say it’s a waste of money, since all you would do is sleep. You always hung out together until just before getting ready for bed anyway, and you repeatedly told them you didn’t mind if they farted at night. Dean laughed at that, and eventually, they agreed to share one room with you. You’d insist on sleeping on the couch, being the shortest out of the bunch, would roll up, always wait until they were asleep, which with both of them could take a long time. But it was always worth it, to hear their slow breathing in the room with you. It lulled you in like nothing else could.

But right now, you’re not sure if sharing is such a good idea.

Dean’s been strange since you told him that you’re not gonna sleep with him again. Which is fair. Are you kind of relieved that he does care? That he didn’t take it in stride? Yes, of course. You’re only human. The fact that he seems hurt, is quiet… You don’t want him to feel even a second of pain, but of course it tugs at your heart. Dean wants you. He really wants you. Not that it matters, now. But it makes it all deliciously harder.

Still, you feel strangely fresh and optimistic. Not at the choice itself, but at least at the fact that a choice has been made. It was in your hands, all of it, and now it is out of them. You can’t help but feel a little lighter.

Plus maybe, just maybe, things will go back to the way they were. With you pining for Dean in secret, and him treating you like a kid, or a little sister. All flirting platonic and meaningless to him, just kindness, but driving you so wild you could have screamed. Needing to play the adult feels good right now, but you wish to go back to that status of the one that needs protecting, the one that needs looking after. It’s not an easy wish to accept, sometimes, but you’ve learned not to shame yourself for it. You’ve been strong so often. It’s okay to want to be cared for.

Dean stretches when he gets out of the car, eyes narrowed, slightly frowning. You catch yourself staring at him, marveling at him. It’s like everything before this was just a fever dream, the chasing, the wanting, the not knowing. Now you see him. You had sex with this man. He wants you. This man. Pride swells your chest, just a touch of shame at the pride following right after.

You drop your bag near the couch, then move to the table, where Sam is already spreading out. You lean on it just as Dean and Cas walk in with the rest of the luggage.

“Should I get us some coffee?” you ask and Sam looks up, smiles, is about to open his mouth but Dean interjects.

“Cas and I are gonna head out and interview some witnesses,” he says, kneeling down to open his own duffel. “You two should focus on research.” You nod. It’s strangely reasonable. You look towards Cas.

“Remember to tell them you work for the FBI this time,” you say with a smile, “not the FCA again.” Castiel gives an embarrassed huff.

“It’s a lot of letters,” he says, then frowns. “I find acronyms confusing.”

But you’re already not listening. After your comment, you looked at Dean, hoping he’d laugh with you. You love Cas, but teasing him together with Dean, lovingly, is one of your favorite past times. You miss it. You miss Dean. In so many ways, even though he’s right there.

But he’s not smiling. He’s not even listening, you’re pretty sure. He’s just straightening, shoving a hand into the back pocket of his jeans, looking down at the table you’ve all gathered around. He looks sad. Distracted, deep in thought, and sad. Could it be? Could it be because of you? Do you have this kind of power? You're sure Dean doesn't have a lot of practice being rejected, at least not by women he sees as sexual conquests. By everyone else? Maybe.

“Sheriff’s office is only twenty minutes away,” Dean now says, completely ignoring the previous exchange. “Let’s go.”

You drop into one of the chairs once the other two men have left, reach for the nearest book, open it at a random page. Try to ignore the lump in your throat.

Focus. It’s what Dean needs. It’s a good distraction. He just needs to keep it up. A few more hours. A few more hours, and you should be back in his arms.

And it’s not like he isn’t gonna have fun in the meantime.

It’s the fifth door he and Cas are knocking on. Dean gets out of the car, hand going to his wrist, tugging at his shirt, then straightening the jacket of his suit. He feels the Mark rub against the fabric of his shirt.

Sometimes, it’s so quiet. Sometimes, it’s just there, humming away, kind of like you were in the car. But sometimes it irritates him, itches. Feels like arm hair caught on a zipper. And sometimes it screams.

More importantly, sometimes he knows it’s the Mark revving him up. He understands that the things he feels are amplified by it. But the thing is, it’s still just him. Still all the stuff he’s just buried in himself. That’s what Sam and Cas don’t understand. The Mark isn’t changing him. It has made him louder. Clearer. Like a radio finally tuned to the right frequency.

The door is opened by the witness, an attractive woman in her late thirties - Dean’s age, he has to keep reminding himself. He doesn’t feel it. It always surprises him.

He flirts with her a little, playfully rolls his eyes at Castiel being awkward, rather than play over it. She gives him a suggestive smile. Cute, but not what he’s looking for. She’d make him take her out, dinner, maybe a movie. A second date before she’d even allow him to push his hand under her shirt. That’s not what he needs.

He needs quick, he needs dirty, he needs immediate. He’s simple like that.

When they leave the house, walk down the front steps, Dean looks at his watch. The gesture is for show, since he already saw the time inside, on some ugly grandfather clock that he hopes to hell was an heirloom. Seven in the evening. Perfect. He slaps his hands together, rubs them against each other.

“Maybe we should start thinking about dinner,” he says, turning to Cas. He pushes his hands into the pockets of his pants and grins. “Don’t tell me you’re not starving.”

Castiel gives him what for the angel passes as a sarcastic look. Hardy fucking har har. He sighs, which is the one human habit Cas seems to have perfected.

“It looks like none of the witnesses have seen anything that could help us,” Cas muses, “so I suppose this is a good time to take a break.” Dean nods for extra emphasis, rolls his shoulders.

“Could use a drink,” he mumbles, looking down the street.

It lands. It lands so perfectly it’s almost ridiculous. Just goes to show he knows Cas. Maybe better than he knows himself.

“Yes,” Cas says, his face changing into a friendly expression even as he says the word. “We should grab a beer. I can’t technically get drunk anymore, but I enjoy the camaraderie of it.”

Dean turns to his friend. For just a second, he feels guilty. Cas wants to get a drink with him. Yeah, he probably wants to talk about his feelings - Dean’s, not Castiel’s - and ask him if he’s really, truthfully, pinkie promise can’t tell a lie honest to God okay. But the point still stands. Luckily, Dean shakes himself out of the guilt immediately. He’s good at that. So he throws the angel a smile.

“I consider that a personal challenge,” he says and Cas now smiles genuinely, his entire face lighting up.

So Dean will get Cas a drink. And then he will take care of everything else.

You’re pulling on your jacket while Sam explains his salad order to you.

“Samuel,” you say, suppressing a grin, “I have bought food for us about a million trajillion times. I know what you like.” Sam drops his hands on the table, then chuckles. God, it feels good, this lightness. Joking with Sam. You know it’s only been less than two weeks since things have changed so drastically, but it feels like an eternity.

“Alright,” he says, admitting defeat, “but to be fair, I need to explain it to Cas and Dean every time, so it’s just kind of a habit.” You shrug.

“Guess I’m the best of all of us,” you say with a heavy sarcastic inflection, making Sam grin, lay his hand over his heart.

“I can neither confirm nor deny that,” he says and you laugh, grab your phone off the table and then walk outside.

You don’t have a second car, and the fast food place is a little bit away, but you don’t mind. The evening is mild, even though darkness has fallen a while ago, and you’ve been cooped up all afternoon in the motel room. You take a deep breath. It’s mostly exhaust fumes, but still, it’s nice. It’s a good walk. You swear to yourself to try to go on more of them.

When you get to the restaurant, you study the menu while you stand in line. The chain’s mascot - a beaver in overalls, for some reason - is screaming at you to get a Chippy Choc Chocolate Shake. It’s cute, but not what you’re in the mood for. You make it to the front of the line and order.

Chicken sandwich for you. Salad shaker with a light dressing for Sam. Cas doesn’t need nutrients, but you get him a small Coke, cause you know he likes the bubbles. For Dean, you go all out: double bacon burger, extra pickles, extra onion, and at the last second, you get him an order of the Dam’ Good Fries. You chuckle at the name.

Your arms are full as you walk back. The food will probably be cold by the time you get back, but it’s not like any of you have the highest culinary standards.

You’re halfway back when your phone vibrates. Balancing some of the food against your body, you pull it out of your pocket. It’s a message from Sam.

Dean and Cas found another witness to interview, just down the road. Just got there but will be back before dinner, oh Queen of the Salads.

The emojis he picked are random, but you think they’re salad-inspired, and then a crown at the end. What an absolute doofus, you think as you push the phone back into your pocket with a smile.

When you reach the motel, you need to balance the food again to grab your key. You push it into the lock and then shoulder your way in.

Your first thought is that Sam must have left the TV on, and your second thought is that that’s very unlikely, since Sam rarely watches anything but the news, and he never watches them on regular TV, because the ads annoy him. He’s also not the type to leave the TV on. So it’s all around weird.

You need to turn when you enter the room since due to the stuff you’re carrying you walked in sideways. When you do, you freeze on the spot.

It’s not the TV. It’s Dean. It’s Dean and he’s not alone.

He’s standing behind the second bed, facing you. You see the anti-possession tattoo on his chest, and then your brain catches up that he needs to be shirtless for that to work. Except he’s not just shirtless, he’s naked.

There’s a woman on the bed. You’ve never seen her before. Later, all you’ll remember about her is that she has dark hair, that her head is hanging off the side of the bed and that her legs are pulled up so that Dean can fuck her the way he’s fucking her.

She’s gasping and moaning and grunting deep in her throat. You’re not sure if she registers that someone has come in. But Dean does. He does immediately.

He looks up. He’s panting and his hips are snapping forwards and backwards while he fucks the woman under him. You can see his cock gliding in and out of her, but only the root, because of the angle. You realize all of this as abstractly as if it isn’t happening to you but to someone else.

When you look away from Dean’s magically disappearing and reappearing cock, you look up at his face. He’s looking straight at you. His lips are parted and you think a smile is tugging at one corner of his mouth.

“Sorry,” he says, then groans, briefly looking down at the woman’s breasts, then up again. “Had to get somewhere fast, was kind of an emergen– oh fuck, that’s it, baby.” His head drops down again, as he keeps fucking. The woman still hasn’t really reacted, but just then, she opens her eyes, focuses on you, though she seems to have a hard time with it.

“Who the fuck are you?” she slurs, making no attempt to stop Dean or get him off her.

Indeed. Who the fuck are you?

The food and drink drops from your arms without you meaning to. The strength to hold them simply leaves you. The lid on the Coke opens, the liquid inside going everywhere. It might as well be happening on a different planet.

You turn around, rush outside. You just have the wherewithal to pull the door shut behind you, and immediately you curse yourself for it. Still being so fucking considerate.

The pain is so immediate, it shocks you. It’s crawling into your throat, like panic, as you rush across the parking lot, without a goal, except for away. Away from Dean, from what you saw.

Your breath is coming fast, but the tears are faster. Without meaning to, a sound leaves you just as you turn the corner off the lot. You’re just there enough still to realize you’re walking back into the direction of the fast food place, so you turn around, because that way are people. The other way is better, even though you have no idea what that way is.

It doesn’t matter. Your arms go around you, your face scrunches up, and a deep sob leaves you.

How stupid you are. How absolutely dumb. Horrendously, endlessly, disgustingly stupid. You thought you were being the adult.

Dean never cared about you. How could he? How could he ever? His biggest worry is probably making sure he comes and then hustling that woman out the door before Sam is back, and Cas, wherever he is. His worry wasn’t you. It never was.

Like someone changing the channel in your head, you see Dean again. Torso glistening, and those noises, skin on skin and grunting and panting, like goddamn animals. Like you and him did. Oh God. He doesn’t give a shit about you.

You actually thought you were on top of this, this whole situation. That you had done something right and good and reasonable, and that things would be alright. How fucking stupid are you?

Dean never cared. He slept with you, had sex with you, because you threw yourself at him. Came to his room with a bottle of his favorite whiskey, asking him about a boy you liked, what to do with him to make him like you. You might as well have walked in naked.

And then, when Dean thought you maybe wanted more than just one night, you avoided him, and then shut him down. All while telling him that he wasn’t in his right mind. Pathetic.

And now you’re hurt? You dare to be hurt? Because you’re not his number one?

Another sob leaves you. God, it hurts. It hurts so much. It’s not like you’ve never seen Dean just before or right after he hooked up with someone. It always made you jealous, distantly, because you were reasonable enough to know that you could never have him like this. So you teased him, acted shocked and, if you’re being honest, a little uppity about his behavior. Like a little girl that knows everything. He must have thought you were ridiculous.

And still, and still. There’s a part of you, no matter how much you beat it down, no matter how much you know you are the bad guy here, I mean, wake up, there’s a part of you that really thought he liked you. That Dean Winchester maybe liked you. The sweetest, strongest, most beautiful person you’ve ever met. Liked you. What an absolute joke.

You don’t know how long you walk, but it’s a while. It’s dark, the streets empty. You have no idea what time it is, because you’d need to unlatch your arms from your body to look at your phone.

You’d recognize the sound anywhere, of course. In your sleep, probably. Still, right then, you are so deep in your thoughts and fantasies, that the Impala is already pulling up next to you when you notice it.

Dean’s in the driver’s seat, of course. His arm is over the back of the bench and he’s leaning his head forward to look at you through the window. You stop walking, look at him. Swallow, but your mouth is dry.

He’s leaning over now, rolls down the window on the passenger side, the one you’re on, a little bit.

“Get in,” he says. His voice is softer than you expect it to be. You sniff.

“Just get in,” he says.

There’s probably no one in the world that would describe Dean as some sort of mastermind. But after today, that just might change.

It’s a matter of timing, and he almost messes up a few times. He’s been calculating all afternoon, thinking about how to do it. It’s a lot of things that need to go right. Not least of all his own seduction skills.

He and Castiel walk into a bar - there’s a joke in there somewhere. Dean picks just about the shabbiest one he can find, as close to the motel as possible.

They sit down, order their drinks. Cas immediately starts on the probing, hiding it very badly by pretending he’s talking about the case. Dean just nods along as he looks around and takes stock.

The one he settles on wouldn’t be his type, if he had one. He likes to drink, but she’s sloppy drunk, standing near the bar, one heel already tilted. She’s cute, but it’s not even eight PM on a Wednesday, and she’s sloshed. Not that he’s one to judge.

He grabs his drink and walks over to her without saying a single word to Cas. Let him figure out what Dean is doing. He’s a big boy.

He gets to chatting to the woman, forgets her name immediately. There’s a brief moment where he wonders if she’s too drunk for him to take home. She’s kinda unsure on her legs, laughs too loudly at everything he says. She’s also eye-fucking him something fierce. Still, this chick needs a cab, not some creep trying to hook up with her. Dean only distantly remembers that he’s that creep.

Luckily Castiel leaves him alone, maybe happy that Dean isn’t sulking or murdering or whatever he thinks Dean likes to do these days. He briefly winks at the angel when he asks the woman if she wants to get out of here. She steps close to him in an attempt at being seductive, runs her hand down his chest. She’ll do.

As they’re walking out, Dean looks at his phone. It’s still on the messages from Sam, the ones he made sure he got a few minutes ago when he was about to leave with his special guest. There’s Dean complaining that he’s hungry, Sam agreeing that they should eat, then saying that you just left and that Dean and Cas should start making their way back.

Dean’s sure Sam suggested that he go and get the food, but that you fought him tooth and nail, knowing that for him tearing himself away from his books is much harder. Plus Dean knows you like to walk. It was a gamble, but one he knew the odds on.

He smiles as he pockets the phone. It’s a race against time now, but at least it'll be a fun one.

He calls Sam as he’s pulling off the bar’s parking lot. Luckily the drunk chick is quiet. Dean hopes she won’t throw up. That would put an end to his plans very quickly.

“Sammy, it’s me,” he opens the conversation. “Listen, we need your help to finish some stuff up…”

The address is a fake, of course. Still, it’ll take Sam long enough to get there and when he calls to confirm the address, Dean simply won’t answer. So maybe he’ll call Cas instead. Everything should already be done by then.

When he hangs up, the woman turns to him with a suggestive grin.

“Who’s Sammy?” she asks. “Is he gonna join us?” Dean just huffs. Yeah, that’ll be the day.

Once they’re inside the room, it’s quick. Dean helps undress her. Usually he’d take his time with a woman, but now he doesn’t. He hopes she’s too drunk to care, as he pulls a condom from his wallet, then maneuvers her over to the bed. He looks at the door briefly. He’ll be facing you when you come in. That’s hoping he didn’t miscalculate somewhere and it is you walking in. If it’s Sam or Cas, he’ll survive that too. Not like it hasn’t happened before.

Luckily, the woman’s pretty wet. Not that it surprises Dean - he tends to have that effect - it’s just that he wasn’t under the impression her brain and pussy were still that much in sync. But it’s good. One less thing he has to worry about. He takes his cock in his hand and strokes himself to hardness.

He thinks about you, of course, and he doesn’t question that even for a single second. The tug and pull inside him is immediate. You’re there, under him, open and waiting, shifting around a little, just moving your body cause you already feel so damn good. Well, he’s about to take you to the next level.

You grin at him, bite your lip, let your legs drop open, breathing hard. Lower lips glistening, some of it having transferred to the inside of your thighs, that’s how bad you want him.

Come here, baby, you say, your tone only a little ironic. He raises his eyebrows at the cheekiness of your tone, grabs your waist with one hand and guides himself into you with the other.

You make the most pornographic noises. Every little push and pull a whimper or gasp or this wonderful sound he can’t really describe, it’s throaty but not. He’s not sure. Perfect, perky tits bouncing a little. Fuck, you want him so much.

You squeeze him inside of you, roll your hips, and even though you shouldn’t technically have any control in this position, you make the most of it. Your sounds get louder, as you’re basically jerking him off with your pussy. Goddamn, he’s gonna��

Dean takes a sharp breath. Focus, he thinks, and his good for nothing brain replies: you were focusing. What the fuck else would you call this? He looks down at the woman. She’s attractive, it’s not that, and she seems to be enjoying herself, but it’s almost turning him off, how much she’s not you. Goddamn it.

He pulls out, briefly, strokes his cock again. She’s mumbling, something about how she wants him to keep going and how good that was, whatever, so Dean closes his eyes, to focus.

It’s you, hand flying to your clit to keep you high, or– no, no, he told you not to touch yourself, that he’s taking care of you, so you don’t, just lie there waiting for him, no, begging for him to keep going. Please, Dean, put it in, I’m so close, I need you. Yeah, that’s right. The reaction is immediate.

He plunges back in, makes the woman drop back her head, off the side of the bed. Good, he doesn’t have to see her face.

You walk in a few minutes later. It actually takes you longer than Dean was expecting, made him almost worried if something changed, if you weren’t going to show. Maybe Cas called from the bar and Sam pulled a car out of his ass, somehow, and picked you up, and then drove to the bar and now you’re all sitting there, talking about how strange and wrong and weird Dean has become.

But that’s not what happens. You walk in, and your reaction is a million times better than Dean even dared to imagine. You care. You do care.

It turns him on to see you like this. To see you care. He was terrified you wouldn't. Any moment now you're gonna walk up to him, grab him and fuck his brains out. He needs to drop his head forward cause he's about to come from the thought alone.

But then you drop all the food and run out. Dean's surprised, it's not the reaction he was expecting, and then he flinches when his arm suddenly twitches. He looks down at the Mark.

He's dressed and in the car fifteen minutes later. He pulled out, didn't even come, unable to imagine the drunk woman as you for even another second. Why would he, when the real deal is out there?

He comes up with some story on the spot, about you being his niece that he's looking after. The drunk chick nods, hair disheveled, then belches when she's pulling up her tights. Dean's pushing her out of the door before she's put her second shoe on.

He drives off the parking lot, hangs a left, heads towards the town center. You're not there, or at least he doesn't find you. He turns the car around, does another lap. Still no sign of you.

He finds you in the other direction. He was just about to get worried - it's not like it's safe out here necessarily, for someone as young and pretty as you. So it's a relief when he pulls up.

It's an even bigger relief when, after staring at him for a moment with eyes whose redness Dean doesn't miss - you've been crying, because of him, goddamn this worked perfectly - you get in the car. In the back, not the front, but it still feels like a win.

He doesn't say anything as he drives back to the motel, and neither do you. It's dark by now, and he parks the car at the opposite end to the lot, far away from the room. Just in case Sam or Cas decide to show up.

He turns off the engine and looks up, into the rearview mirror, at you

“Sorry about that,” he says, not sounding sorry, talking as if you're in the middle of a conversation. You don't react, so Dean adds: “About what you walked in on there, earlier. I didn't think you would be back so soon.” Still you don't reply.

“Kinda had to be fast,” he continues, distantly wondering if he’s trying to fill the silence. “Just… just had to get somewhere fast, you know?”

Dean’s still looking into the rearview mirror, studying your face. You’re looking off to the side, out the window, avoiding him. Your arms are wrapped tightly around your body, like you need to protect yourself.

And all of a sudden, it doesn’t feel good. The high Dean was riding of not just getting his dick wet but of seeing you react with shock and jealousy dies down, drops him with no warning, and he needs to swallow.

“Hey,” he says into the rearview mirror, trying to get your attention, but instead, your arms around you tighten and then he can see your bottom lip begin to tremble. It’s the sweetest, prettiest thing he’s ever seen and it breaks his heart in two.

You squeeze your eyes shut and then your shoulders are shaking and before Dean can do anything, a tear, and then another, drop from your closed eyes. You sniff, and Dean feels frozen for a moment.

He was hoping you’d throw yourself at him, fuck him stupid to show him who he belongs to. Who you belong to. He didn’t expect this.

“Hey,” he says again, shifting in his seat, quieter this time, inclining his head in utter discomfort and shame, a feeling he should be used to by now but still it burns violently in him. “Don’t– it’s okay.” Your lips are pressed together, but you release them with a sob. You don’t look at him when you speak.

“Did you do that on p–purpose?” you ask, and your voice is so shaky it’s like someone grabs Dean’s heart and presses it between their hands. “How could you– Why would you do that?”

He opens the door before he even plans to do it. Gets out, lets it shut, and then opens the backdoor. He scoots in and you don’t move away. Dean sits, leans over to pull the door closed behind him. It’s probably a good sign, he thinks, just as he turns to you, that you’re allowing him to sit next to you. And then in the next moment he thinks: good sign for what?

He turns to you, and you’re avoiding his gaze, staring at the nothing. Dean needs to bring his arm to the back of the bench so that he can turn to you, and while he watches, you try to control yourself, every part of you tense, under pressure. His fingers land on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and that seems to break your levee.

You pull your shoulders up, and you’re shaking the next second. Thick, loud sobs leave you and the tears spilling down your face are endless. Dean hesitates for a second, but the sadness caused by seeing you like this, even if he is the cause of your pain, propels him forward. He scoots closer, the arm already on the back of the bench touching your shoulder now going around you, while with the other he reaches for your face, cups it gently in the hope to get you to focus on him, maybe to bring you out of this.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, and he really, truly is. This isn’t how he imagined it. This isn’t how he wanted it. He’s completely failed to consider that this might be an option, that for you to do anything about what he did, even jump his bones, you would have to be upset. Shame rears its head inside of him again. How could he be so stupid?

He turns you towards him, but the gentleness he hopes will calm you only seems to make things worse, because you open your mouth, lips puffy from crying, lips he wants nothing more than to feel right now, but he can’t, he shouldn’t, and address him without looking at him.

“Who would do something like that?” you say, hiccuping. “How could you– Why did you do that?”

It’s the same question you’ve already asked, but the unspoken answer remains the same. Dean did it because he could. Because he wanted something, saw a way to get it and didn’t care about the consequences. Because he feels justified in burning the house down to make himself warm, and he doesn’t give a shit about who’s asleep in bed upstairs.

“It was stupid,” he says, thumb tracing your skin in the same pattern over and over, to calm you, but honestly, also to calm himself. To reassure him that he fucked up like this and still gets to touch you. That things are gonna be fine, fine, and he can still be close to you. “I– I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know why I did.” A lie. “I’m sorry.” Not a lie.

And then, and Dean could sing at that if he was the type, you lean against him. He raises his chin and your head slots under it so perfectly he thinks this must mean something. Your shoulders go slack, and Dean needs to close his eyes, because this, this, means you still trust him. He hasn't become someone unsafe for you.

He presses you against himself and you keep crying. Dean doesn't want to think about what it means that you are back in his arms despite what he did. He feels guilt at the act, and then more guilt at not pushing you away from him, at not stopping you from returning to him. He's a lucky son of a bitch, and he knows that luck won't hold, it can't, not forever. It's fine.

It's fine, because you lean against him, your smaller body shaking and the Mark rejoices. It wants Dean isolated and alone, but maybe you can be the exception. Maybe you won't question him all the time the way Sam does, make him feel bad about every single fucking decision he makes. Maybe you can be the one he shares all of this with. The one he can finally give himself up to.

He turns your face and looks down at you. Eyes half closed from the crying and there are those puffy lips again. He leans forward and kisses them, deeply, hungrily. He feels you tense for a moment. Then you return the kiss.

He kisses you harder. You seem tired, the way a good long cry makes everyone tired, but you're hurt, so you crave the closeness, the forgiving, the forgetting.

He'll make you forget. He’ll make you forgive.

He’s terrified you’re gonna stop him, any second now. He can’t have that, can’t have you turning from him, so he keeps kissing you, presses his tongue into your mouth and you accept it, press yours against his a moment later.

Heaven, he thinks. Pure and blissful heaven. But now that he’s had a taste, finally has had another taste, he wants all of it.

Without moving his lips away from yours, he begins maneuvering your body, pulling your hips forward, turning himself. His hands go to the button of your jeans, open it with the most delicious pop he’s ever heard, and you’re not telling him to stop, you’re not pushing him away.

It’s close quarters on that backseat. Not like Dean doesn’t know, not like he hasn’t done this. If you would ride him, that would work much better, or even if you got up on all fours. But he’s careful of moving you too much, of waking you from this trance you’re in, this trance that allows him to keep going.

So he awkwardly lays you on your back. Your jeans are around your knees already and getting them the rest of the way off isn’t easy. He manages, but needs to sit up, unlatch from you, and he’s terrified you’re gonna use that moment to tell him to stop.

But you don’t. Your arms are drawn up to your chest, and you’re not looking at him, avoiding his gaze, even. But Dean can’t think about that now. You want him. Maybe you just can’t admit it to yourself.

It’s too much work to do the whole spiel with your underwear too, so Dean simply pushes the fabric of it to the side. He sees your pussy and he wants to appreciate it, push his mouth against it, but he doesn’t have the time, doesn’t have the self control, not now, not right now. He’ll spend time on you next time, but right then, he just needs to have you.

He leans over you again, elbows holding him up. He’s not looking at your face, even though he misses the sight of it, but he’s pretty sure he’s not gonna like what he sees there. He wishes you were enthusiastic, would grab him, pull him in. But you’re not. He’s scared that if he looks at your face he’ll see you’re not really there in the car with him.

He’s pulled down his own suit pants, taken his cock out, hard and wanting without so much as being touched once - the new status quo he has simply accepted when it comes to you. He shuffles around a little, tugs one of your legs up on his side. He needs you that far open so your underwear doesn’t get in the way when he begins pushing into you. Still, he feels the fabric run along his dick. He doesn’t care.

He presses his open mouth against your temple, one hand going to the side of your head, taking a fistful of the hair there, not to pull, but only to steady himself. You make a sound in your throat that could be encouragement or disdain or just air leaving you, but Dean can’t focus, can’t hear it, he can’t concentrate on something like that when he’s finally, finally, inside of you again.

On the first push in - not a lot of resistance, he distantly notes, so maybe you do want him - his stomach twitches and his fist in your hair tightens. It’s almost painful, the muscle contractions, no, it is painful. But it’s also good. He thinks it’s an orgasm, but he doesn’t shoot into you, so he elects to ignore it, groans until it’s passed, then begins moving.

He moans immediately, mouth still pressed against you so you can hear him. Why has he been going out there, fucking hundreds of women, when something like this is possible? How did he have no idea what he was missing out on?

His sounds break the silence of the car, his loud breathing, along with the slight squelch of him going in and out of you. It’s why he hears the voices immediately.

“There’s food all over the floor, I don’t know what happened,” he hears Sam and freezes. A second voice joins him, and of course it’s fucking Cas. They’re a little bit away and Dean’s not immediately sure if they’re coming closer.

“His car’s here,” the angel points out, ever the observant one. “He must have just checked into another room with his… friend. ” Dean shifts just a little, and you whimper at it, so his hand flies to your mouth, presses over it and he looks down at you. Your eyes are glistening in the soft light of the parking lot. A sudden instinct strikes him, and he gives an experimental roll of his hips.

A few things happen at the same time: you make that sound in your throat again, lids fluttering and eyes rolling up for just a second. At the same time, your pussy clenches down on him, a quick, uncontrolled squeeze.

Interesting, Dean thinks. Very interesting.

He pushes forward again, and the same thing happens. His hand is still clasped over your mouth and he pushes a little harder, making your breathing pick up. You like this. You like needing to be quiet, the danger of getting caught. Sam and Cas standing out there, just a few feet away from finding out that you’re allowing Dean to fuck you in the backseat of his car.

He gives a hard thrust, your pussy grabbing him at the sudden stimulation.

“Ssh,” he goes, unable to hide the grin on his face. He says it quietly but it feels loud in the car’s interior. “Don’t want them to hear us, now do we?” It has the desired effect. You move under him, shift around as far as that’s possible. You want him to move, Dean realizes. Oh, that he will.

He starts fucking you again, slow and shallow. The slow part is mostly so that the car’s frame doesn’t squeak, give you two away. But he can’t deny the thrill of seeing your eyebrows pull together, your eyes shutting, trying to concentrate on the feeling. Oh, you love this.

“I’ll call her,” Dean can hear Sam say, barely registering, but then a second later he hears a buzzing in the car. He almost freezes, almost stops, but then he realizes it’s your phone. Your jeans are in the footwell next to him, and he sees it peaking out, the screen lighting up with Sam’s name on the display. He makes a quick decision.

Dean reaches down, grabs the phone, and shoves it between you two. He tilts it so the edge of it presses against your clit, or as close to it as he can find without looking.

He knows he’s hit the spot when you buck up under him, like a wild horse trying to throw him off. What he guesses are involuntary moans shatter against his hand and you’re twitching, squeezing him like crazy, moving around, like you’re trying to get away from the stimulation, but his larger, heavier body is pinning you down, stopping the movement from rocking the car. The phone buzzes, then briefly stops, the buzzes again, but the short breaks aren’t enough for you to recover. Dean grins, even though you’re making an awful ruckus.

“Ssh, ssh,” he presses out, despite your moving and clenching and twitching feeling absolutely amazing, “stop thrashing, they’re gonna find us.” You seem to just register what he’s saying, seemingly try to calm your body, still twitching here and there but giving yourself over to the feeling.

“No answer,” he hears distantly, “let’s wait inside.” He hears footsteps retreating.

Just in time too, because he can’t wait anymore. He pushes himself up, careful not to put too much weight on your head, but still pressing the back of it down into the leather. With the new angle, he can drive into you faster, harder. And he does.

The call is dropped a second later, and Dean tosses the phone somewhere on the ground, not caring. He’s looking down, at where he’s disappearing inside of you, but he can’t go faster, so he lets go of your mouth, grabs your hips, and begins slamming himself into you as quickly as he can.

He needs to come, and he needs to come now. He’s pretty sure his head is gonna explode otherwise. He’s pretty sure his heart is gonna stop if he doesn’t. It’s the only thing on his mind.

He looks up at your face, and it makes his cock twitch violently when he sees what he sees. You’re just pulling your legs up, so as to give Dean more room to move. Your face is flushed, probably both from his hand and from you trying to be quiet, and your lids are low. He looks into your eyes as he keeps thrusting, and you into his.

You moan loudly when your gazes connect. You’re crazy about him, Dean understands in that moment. Just as crazy as he is about you.

“D-Dean,” comes out of you suddenly, the first thing you’ve said since this all started. Dean only has it in him to raise his eyebrows. He’s too busy burying himself in you over and over.

“I– I shouldn’t be doing this to you,” you moan, stammering on the first word. Dean grins, gives an extra hard thrust. He wants you to know how hard he is, all of it for you, and you gasp, then whimper. He gives you another.

“Yeah, look what you do to me,” he grunts, picking up his rhythm again. He lowers his head, almost snarls up at you. “Look what you fucking do to me. Making me fuck you like this.”

You whine again and then, without him needing to do anything else, your hand wanders between your legs, fingertips finding your clit and rubbing quickly. Dean could scream from lust and joy. You want to come. And he’s gonna get you there.

He shuffles, brings his knees more under him. It raises your lower body up but it gives him the purchase he needs to set the pace he desires. He holds you fast in place at your hips as he fucks you, his cock now coming away glistening from your arousal.

You give a loud moan, Dean hitting something in you that makes you even wetter, makes your inner walls flutter like the embrace of a long lost lover or something different, something more alien. He wants to touch every other part of you, but he can feel it building now, feel the tension rising in him.

He comes, groaning loudly, and while he empties himself into you he simply keeps fucking you, his cock twitching like crazy. You throw your head back, making noises that almost sound like pain, and then he feels you come around him, twitching and vibrating. Perfection. Absolute perfection.

He keeps fucking you, making you whine, but still he doesn’t stop. Thank the Mark for what he is able to pull out of his body, or maybe it’s just you, the chemicals of your bodies mixing, undoing all natural laws, because a minute later he feels his balls pull up again, and one arm shoots forward, grabs your jaw, your chin resting in the valley between his thumb and index finger, and he comes again, grinding himself deep into you while he holds you in place.

He’s not sure if he blacks out for a second with the intensity of it, but then he’s blinking, his surroundings coming back into focus. You’re not looking at him, your own eyes closed, Dean’s hand still attached to you. He lets go and pulls it back, before slowly pulling out of you.

“Are you okay?” he asks. You open your eyes, stare at the ceiling of the car. Both of you are still breathing hard, your chest rising and falling, the movement absolutely mesmerizing to Dean.

“Yes,” you say, quietly. Dean sniffs.

“Let’s get some dinner,” he says.

Dean and you walk into the motel room and Sam drops the phone he’s holding in both hands on the table in front of him.

“There you are,” he says, voice tense. “Is everything okay?”

Dean walks over to the table, past Castiel, and puts the two armfuls of food he’s carrying down. You walk in too, close the door behind you, then stand there while Sam and Cas both look at you.

“I came back and I thought something happened,” Sam says, standing up, looking at you with a worried expression on his face. “I tried calling.”

“Yeah,” you say, voice coming out a little cracked, “sorry, phone died. I got in and I…” You look down at where the rug of the room is still slightly darker because of the spilled drink.

“Sorry,” you say again, still looking down. “I was embarrassed and I just wanted to get the food, because I knew you’d be hungry when you came back. And Dean too.”

The story has more holes than a sinking ship. It’s ridiculous, actually, and it feels nearly offensive to be telling it, to assume that anyone would believe it. Still, your brain feels pinned, frozen, and it’s all you can come up with.

“Who cares?” Dean says in the general direction of his brother as he sits down in one of the chairs, drags one of the styrofoam containers towards him and opens it. “Everyone’s alive. We got food. Can we eat?” Cas turns to you, takes an extra step towards you and lays his hand on your shoulder.

“So long as you’re okay,” he says and you force a smile onto your face, nod. Try to ignore the tackiness between your legs, the one you were violently aware of standing in the glaring light of the fast food restaurant, waiting in line, again, now next to Dean. It made you shudder and he turned to you, but you pretended you didn’t notice. You’re gonna have to take a shower later, even though you already took one at the bunker earlier.

Dean is already chomping down and Cas moves away from you, looking over the banquet and with a small smile reaches for the new Coke you got him. Only Sam isn’t moving. He’s watching the scene, a slight frown on his face. Dean notices, raises his eyebrows at his brother.

“Come on, man,” he says after swallowing, “your rabbit food’s gonna get cold or whatever.” But Sam still doesn’t sit, instead crosses his arms in front of his chest.

“So did you two get the food together?” he asks, trying to make his voice lighter than it actually is, you think. “Cause we saw your car in the parking lot, Dean. After you left Cas at the bar.” There’s accusation in the last part, and it bubbles to the surface as Dean slows his chewing and a cold shiver goes through you.

“I went for a little post-coital drive,” Dean says, not taking his eyes off his brother. The lie comes to him so shockingly easy. Dean reaches for a napkin, dabs at his mouth before he straightens in his seat.

“You know the ones, Sammy?” he asks, a slight challenge in his voice. “Oh right, you don’t. You don’t get laid.”

It’s just a joke. It’s just the kind of joke Dean makes and Sam rolls his eyes at and that’s it, harmless. But of course it’s not. It’s heavy with meaning. You’re reminded of the stickiness between your legs. You should just excuse yourself to the bathroom but you feel like you can’t move, like that would be so obvious. Why would you go to the bathroom other than to clean Dean’s come off yourself?

Sam huffs, much too late. It’s forced, not genuine, but, to your utmost relief, he finally sits down. Dean begins chewing again while Castiel briefly looks between you two and Sam stares at the mountain of food for a few seconds before reaching for what is clearly his.

You move, finally, stepping forward as if you’ve never stepped forward before. Every single movement feels mechanical, and after what feels like an eternity, you reach the table, sit down, once more reminded of the mess in your underwear. Dean pulled the seat of it over your crotch once he’d pulled out. Keep that in there, he said, and you only nodded.

You’re looking down at the table, too nervous to make another move when suddenly a wrapped sandwich is held before you. You look up. It’s Dean, reaching across the table, holding it out to you. He’s looking at your face, his expression completely neutral. For a moment, it might as well just be the two of you in this room.

Your hand goes up, and you take the sandwich from him. Dean pulls his hand back, keeps looking at you for another second. There’s a thousand things you could interpret into that stare, but you don’t know what you actually see there. So you look down at the food in front of you. It twists your stomach to think about it. But it’s not the only thing you think about.

You think about Dean, above you there in the backseat of his car. About how it felt like he couldn’t stop himself. You didn’t want him to, you think, although you’re not sure. You’re not sure what you want at all. This feeling afterwards, this dread in your stomach - it shouldn’t be like that, right? It shouldn’t feel this way.

You think about him, moving inside you. About him pressing his hand over your mouth. You liked it, because it felt like you didn’t need to make a choice. It wasn’t like pushing him off you and alerting Sam and Cas to your presence was an option. So you might as well enjoy it.

You don’t know what to think. Shame burns hot in your chest, but not as hot as in your core, or the rest of your body, all of it screaming for Dean.

#supernatural #spn #fanfic #spn fanfic #dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #moc dean

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amalthea-13 · 2 days ago

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Stolas and Via v.s. Loona and Blitz

Introduction

I'm BAAACCCKKKKK! As much as I adore talking about Octavia and debating about Stella. I wanted to utilize my rewatch of Spring Broken (S1 Ep3) to talk about the dichotomy setup between Stolas and Blitz's parenting styles!

This will be a defense for Stolas because I noticed that many people use Blitz as an example of a "good parent" when- in actuality both of these dorks parent the exact same way but in differing fonts.

You all may wanna argue against that, but this is purely from my observation.

Now the major differences between Octavia and Loona is Octavia wants all her dad's attention and Loona wants less of her father's attention. While yes there is a bit of an age difference and circumstances, we are purely talking parenting techniques and their similarities.

Let's dive in!

Both Don't Listen to Their Daughter's Needs

When it comes to Stolas, one of the major issues I notice discussed is how Stolas disregards Via. That he is only concerned about himself and that she should always come first.

I'm not going to argue against this at the moment since I have outlined many times that Stolas has always been a selfless father who prioritizes his daughter first above his own safety and happiness. If you wanna argue that, go argue with the wall.

Moving on, the biggest complaint is Stolas doesn't seem to concerned with listening or caring for Octavia's needs as I outlined back in the Stolas, Via, and Loo Loo Land essay.

Stolas is known to get caught up in himself at times, and remember that habit is a biproduct of his abuse. He gets excitable due to being deprived of any sense of happiness for so long.

This causes him to not listen or hear out Via's needs when she is clearly unhappy at Loo Loo Land.

Octavia looks consistently uncomfortable and like she isn't having a good time.

Many argue that again, Blitz is a good parent, but he does this to Loona too during Spring Broken. Loona unlike Via is 22 and a growing woman. Therefore she craves independence away from Blitz, but he is consistently up in her space and invasive as all fuck. Going as far to get between her and Tex.

Loona clearly struggles socially as we see later on in Helluva Boss, but here she is trying to make connections and meet new people. She clearly craves social interactions with people her age and people like her. She seeks connections with other hellhounds and therefore it really isn't fair of Blitz to try and stop that. I mean he knows his daughter and is consistently overbearing to an annoying ass degree.

Stolas on the other hand can be just as overbearing and annoyingly up in Octavia's business. Trying his best to do the right thing and often fumbling.

Both Have the Capacity to Be Selfish

One major criticism of Stolas is that he acts selfishly during Mastermind and while I WILL be tackling that in another post, the main thing here is both of them have been able to act selfish at times.

Blitz during Spring Broken prioritizes a parking space above Loona's need for community and socialization away from him. A parking spot is not more important than your daughters needs.

Both Stolas and Blitz have room to be selfish or downright unfair to their daughters, but that doesn't make either of them as awful and terrible as ya'll make it out to be. While I can understand why some people talk about Stolas's parenting, it makes no sense when you realize he isn't much different from Blitz.

Both of them Truly Care

However, both Stolas and Blitz have one thing in common and it is that they care. Despite Loona being 22 and knowing her father is a lot, she still trusts him and knows he will take care of her even if it means things go a bit off the rails.

Both of these men would go through hellfire and brimstone for their girls and that's the biggest takeaway ya'll should take. When debating these two as parents or as lovers.

The arguments come down to Stolas being bad and Blitz being good, but they both care so deeply for their daughters that I think this whole "good or bad" mentality makes no sense since they both are trying their best.

Especially considering the background both of these characters come from.

Stolas and Blitz: Background

Now let's talk about childhood because this is gonna be a DOOZY. Both Stolas and Blitz had ASS fathers. Cash Buckzo sold his son for a 5 dollar bill and a CONDOM. While Paimon couldn't give a fuckin hoot what happened to Stolas as long as it served the Goetia Family.

Both of these fucks did not give two flying fucks about their kids and sadly it shows in how violent they are towards them. Literally during the fire when Cash sees his freshly burnt son, he not only grabs Blitz by his burns, but also hits him!

For Stolas, we know physical violence was utilized to manage his behavior. Not as severe as Blitz's example, but still important to the context of his character.

Also note that Blitz flinches because he himself is hit quite often.

Both of these characters had their behaviors managed by a form of violence and lived in families where they were only as loved as they were useful.

Their love and care was dependent on what they could provide. Hence Stolas believing he has to give Blitz things to make him stay and Blitz's "I can always do better" line during Full Moon.

It's why many of Blitz's relationships fell apart. Once he can no longer gain something or feels like they'll leave him he dips.

It's why Stolas tries so hard to be able to provide for Blitz so he has a solid place in Blitz's life.

Blitz eventually left his family but decided he wanted to be a better father to Loona and that even if the world saw her as a fuck up, that he'd do better for her.

That he himself may be a lost cause, but shit if he can give this girl the opportunities he was robbed of then maybe, just maybe she'll be better than him.

Stolas having lived through abuse, pain, and ridicule for most of his life wanted nothing more than the best life for Octavia so he spoiled that girl with all the love he had since he wanted her to grow up to remember she was cared for and adored.

So she never felt as lonely in that palace as he did.

That despite how vindictive and awful his wife was, he'd provide her a normal life and try his best to give her everything he didn't have.

When I say these men beat the odds of their circumstances, they beyond anything beat the fucking odds.

A person like either of them would have continued the cycle of abuse, but instead both Stolas and Blitz chose to be better father's for the sakes of their daughters and nothing else.

Conclusion

Despite the odds and their lives, both Stolas and Blitz are amazing parents. While this may be a weird way to discuss Spring Broken, I wanted to touch on this topic after seeing the dynamic between Blitz and Loona as it mirrors Stolas and Via.

I hope you all enjoyed!!!

Toodles! Amalthea Out!

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mushroomsneedystuff · 14 hours ago

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Streamer!Gamer!Kenma x MakeupInfluencer!Reader

CW: fem!reader, fingering, oral, nsfw, smut, kenma calls reader dumb/stupid, unprotected (pls wrap it up yall), AGED UP KENMA AND READER (early/mid 20s, but age isn't mentioned)

'Kodzuken was live' is the notification that came up on your phone right as you had heard your boyfriend, Kenma, raging at his computer. You were editing one of your makeup tutorial videos, stifling a laugh at the curses that fill the room next to yours.

Luckily, you both have your own spaces. You live together, sure, but you both made enough money to get a 4 bedroom house. Two bedrooms were used as each of your "offices", one was a guest room (Kuroo or Shoyo's room depending on who was staying the night), and then your shared bedroom.

Hearing Kenna's voice, raising slightly at what you could assume was his teammates for whatever game he was playing now, was always both entertaining yet slightly annoying when you were trying to work.

The same could be said for him though, when he's filming some short videos for his sponsorships and social medias, he can commonly hear you filming your 'get ready with me' videos or streaming.

It ended very commonly with his fingers under your outfit, teasing you relentlessly for "trying to get his attention" (he really just wanted your attention).

Like right now. He just finished his stream, and he didn't bother with knocking before his arms were wrapping around you from behind, his hand sneaking down under your little pajama shorts.

"Kept being so loud. You want all our fans to know we're together?" He says with a small huff, clearly just slightly irritated over losing just a bit more than usual tonight. That would be forgotten soon, he had his perfect little trophy, his cute little girlfriend, being completely molded to his liking by his hands.

He had you whining and melting, begging him "Ken please? Kenma, 'm sorry". You'd don't even know what you were begging for, you just wanted something, anything more than just his fingers.

He drags you off of your desk, tugging you into your shared bedroom, and laying you down neatly on the queen bed.

"I should just put a ring on your finger, huh? It'll get you to shut up and stop interrupting my streams?" He teases lowly, half serious as he drags down your shorts and soft or ties together in a fluid motion. He doesn't give you a chance to even think about what he just said, what he had hinted at, his tongue was already dragging along your folds and clit. Within seconds, you were writhing out in pleasure and whining quietly.

Kenma always knew exactly what to do to get you where he wanted, whether that be overstimulated and begging him to slow down, edged and sensitive beyond reason, flushed out and breathless; you were his statue and he was the sculptor.

Right now? He wanted you absolutely flushed with pleasure, moans leaving your mouth instead of the giggles and talking that had been picked up by his mic while he was streaming.

"There you go... getting even stupider just with my tongue?" He grumbles out against your pussy, lapping lazily at your folds and clit with motions that had your back arching and thighs trembling.

He pulls away right before you could cum on his mouth, leaving one harsh flick of his tongue along your folds. He had his pants pulled down slightly, just enough with his boxers for his hard cock to jump out.

His thrusts are slow and deep, drawn out to make you whimper and beg for more. If it weren't for the insults being groaned into your ear, it might've felt like he was making love to you (he was. in his own, pent up way).

He doesn't allow you to cum, forcing your chin up to look at him through your half-lidded eyes full of tears. "Are you crying already? So dumb on my cock, huh?" He muffles a groan with a scoff, starting to pound into you faster when he feels your cunt clench around him at his words. "You like being my good, dumb girl?"

He lets out a breathless curse under his breath when your walls flutter around his cock, his eyes glaring down into yours. "Hold it. You couldn't hold back that loud voice of yours when I was streaming, so now you don't get to cum". His words are mean, forcing you to try your best to hold back the orgasm that seems to be getting closer and closer to crashing down on you as his hips fuck into your tight pretty hole.

It doesn't take long for Kenma to get to his own orgasm, his forehead leaning down onto yours as he finally presses a searing kiss to your lips. He borderline whines into your mouth, trying his best to hold back his own orgasm

"Such a good girl... listening to be so well..." He gasps out quietly, shushing your whines and begs to be able to cum. "Go ahead... cum for me as i fill up my pretty pussy"

Your orgasm hits you hard, and your cunt is squeezing around Kenma so tightly that it's almost painful. He thrusts harshly a few more times inside you before slamming into you harshly and stilling his hips. Large waves of his own cum shoot deep inside you, filling up your womb and pussy perfectly while he groans. He's insulting and complimenting you all at once, somewhat pussy drunk on the feeling of your pussy clenching and fluttering around him so tightly, milking him for his sperm and seed. He rolls his hips slowly just a few more times, drawing out both of your orgasms before slowly pulling back and laying next to you.

You're both panting, catching your breath as you hide your smile into his chest. You both calm down for a few moments before he's pecking your forehead before leaving to go grab a towel to clean you up.

#kenma x you #kenma x y/n #kenma x reader #hq kenma #haikyuu kenma #kenma kozume smut #kenma smut #kozume kenma #kenma #haikyuu x reader smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu time skip #haikyuu smut #haikyuu #hq x reader #hq smut #hq x you #anime smut #anime

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yarameijer · 18 hours ago

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Raimon GO Trio: Growth

So I was busy answering an ask for AR, and then realized I got super carried away with it and didn’t really answer the ask anymore. Yet I’m also having too much fun with this particular analysis, so I decided to make it a separate post!

The ask was originally about Raimon GO Trio headcanons, and moments in which Original Raimon Trio saw themselves in the GO Trio. Anyway, things happened, and… oops?

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The relationship of the GO trio is one based on growth, I think.

To start, I need to talk about the original trio. Endou, Kidou and Gouenji have always had a friendship based on equality and mutual respect. They were equals from very early on in the anime, if not the start, I think (it’s been a long time since I watched it so I’m a little skewed on the details). Kidou and Gouenji were both established as phenomenal soccer players from the start. Endou was not, but he was the captain and that gave him a certain, status, I suppose might be the word, as well. The three of them have always had this sense of equality to me that the GO trio lacked for a very long time.

As for mutual respect; Kidou started on a different side, but he has very clearly been impressed by Gouenji’s skills since before the first episode even started, specifically challenging Raimon to draw him out and face him in a match, and he was relatively neutral to Endou but eventually started to respect him even while they were rivals. With the exception of the first two, three, episodes, Gouenji has always had a friendly relationship with Endou and (as far as I can remember) never fought his authority as captain, and he’s had a friendly relationship with Kidou basically from the moment he joined the team. Despite some hostility at the start, Kidou and Gouenji have always deferred to Endou’s position as captain. And I think we all know Endou’s opinion. There were some bumps in the road but the three of them have always held mutual respect for one another, and their friendship has always had that respect and equality as its basis.

Shindou, Tsurugi and Tenma are very different.

From day one they were hostile to one another and that lasted for a very long time, and unlike the original trio they didn't even respect each other to balance it out. Shindou and Tsurugi considered each other enemies and just had a general bad opinion of the other; Tsurugi was cruel and sort of crazy, to be honest, and saw both Shindou and Tenma as an enemy, although Shindou was probably the bigger threat in his eyes (now I'm thinking, despite the Gouenji-Tsurugi parallels, it's also possible to compare Tsurugi and Kidou as they were both originally antagonists, but Kidou never seemed as bitter as Tsurugi to me (it's been a long time since I watched the originals, so I could be wrong)). Shindou seemed very self-absorbed in the sense that he took all the weight on his own shoulders, like he thought that he was responsible for everything and needed to solve all problems primarily alone. Tsurugi was a Seed and his enemy and Tenma a troublemaker and distraction.

Tenma here would be the exception, but that didn't matter because originally Tenma held the weakest position. New to a team, good at dribbling but horrible at everything else, younger than Shindou (which, especially with Japan's focus on age differences, really doesn't help the equality thing) and generally discarded by both Tsurugi and Shindou. Sure, he respected Shindou and he didn’t have the same hostility towards Tsurugi as many others, but it didn’t matter because he barely had a voice on the team. Sure, he talked a lot, and I mean a lot, but people didn’t listen.

The three of them were a mess no matter how you look at it. You couldn’t even refer to them as ‘the three of them’ because they had nothing in common, no relationship to speak of.

As we all know that eventually changed, and it kept changing. Tenma got through to Shindou, Shindou started treating Tenma, if not as a friend, at least as an underclassman - as someone he had a responsibility towards to care for. Tsurugi became a tentative ally to Raimon, and they had to put up with him, and eventually he switched sides completely (still kept to himself a lot though). Tenma gained more confidence in his place on the team. They struggled, they fought together, they had to encourage each other and that builds bonds. To be honest, I don't know when these three became friends, I'd have to rewatch the anime for that, but I think it took a while even after they initially set aside their differences. Even during the last match of season 1, Tsurugi still refers to Tenma as ‘’Matsukaze’’ in his head.

(Another fun thing that makes them less compatible compared to the original trio - their positions. Endou, goalkeeper; Kidou, midfielder; Gouenji, forward. Defense, bridge, offense. They’re spread out equally over the field. The GO trio, though, consists of one forward and two midfielders; mismatched.)

Anyway, their relationship is constantly evolving. From enemies, to (tentative) allies, to sort of friends. I mean, there’s an obstacle simply in the fact that Shindou is older and therefore put in the ‘senpai’ role (seriously, don’t underestimate how important age differences are in Japan). Then there’s Tsurugi being a pretty quiet individual. They might be on friendly terms, even call one another friends, but they wouldn’t be good friends.

Tenma’s and Shindou’s relationship in season 1, to me, never really seemed like friendship. Tenma very obviously respects Shindou and depends on him and thinks he’s great, but he also sort of puts Shindou on a pedestal. Shindou seems, eventually, very fond of Tenma, and to be honest I think Shindou is actually the one to call him a friend first; less of an age barrier for him, and Tenma is a bit too shy to declare his captain a friend first (seriously, it’s easy to forget but especially at the start of the anime, Tenma is very shy). But especially as long as the barrier of Tenma putting Shindou on a pedestal exists, they can’t really be friends in the deeper sense of the word.

Tsurugi and Tenma, on the other hand, have learnt to work together and depend on one another by the end of season 1. It’s not very pronounced but it’s obvious (especially when they use Fire Tornado Double Drive) how much Tsurugi really depends on Tenma (and accepts that!), while Tenma is just super friendly and nice towards Tsurugi. At some point these two became friends, but gosh don’t ask me when. (I want to add here: we see clearly in season 1 how much Tsurugi depends on Tenma, and while we don’t see that sentiment returned, I do believe it already exists at that point; at the very least, Tenma’s reaction to Tsurugi’s kidnapping in season 3 speaks volumes.)

I haven’t mentioned the friendship between Shindou and Tsurugi much before, but that’s because they’re really hard to pin down. The one thing that stands out to me is how great of a team they are together, even, or maybe especially, without Tenma. We don’t see the two of them interacting as much as we see either of them interacting with Tenma, but what interactions they do have often occur during matches - I can’t really pinpoint any examples but to me it’s always felt like there was no real need for them to talk so much. Tsurugi goes along with Shindou’s strategies always without ever asking for explanation; he’s got a healthy respect for Shindou’s mind, I think, and seems very good at picking up clues from him. Which, to Shindou, probably makes him the perfect ‘’pawn’’ in his strategies, since Tsurugi is 1) a real ace of the team and 2) really good at responding to him instinctively. They’re very quiet together, and a very good team. They didn’t respect each other at the start, but once they saw eye-to-eye? Hell yeah, and I think that defines them for the entire series. Shindou never treats Tsurugi like an underclassmen, not like he does Tenma. When did these two become friends? I don’t think even they know - actually, I think they might not have been friends if Tenma hadn’t been there to be the bridge between them, but when it actually happened? No clue.

Anyway! Then there’s the next big change: Tenma becomes captain.

It always stood out to me that Tenma didn’t stop calling Shindou ‘captain’ until Chrono Stone. I always wondered why Tenma was still captain in Chrono Stone, since Shindou was out of the hospital at that point and they never discussed the - what initially seemed like a temporary - captain switch in the anime. I mentioned in an earlier post that I headcanon that this switch happened because Shindou insisted on it, because Shindou didn't want to be captain and felt Tenma was better suited to the role. This conversation would've taken place somewhere between season 1 and 2, or potentially somewhere in the first episodes of season 2. That's also why Tenma switches from calling him ‘captain’ to ‘Shindou-senpai’, and that's the start of the newest change in their relationship. It quite literally forces Tenma into being on more equal footing as Shindou, as captain to former captain. Obviously this switch is gradual, as we see him doubting himself quite a lot in Chrono Stone and growing into the position as the season goes on.

Now I have to wonder how Tenma and Tsurugi's dynamic would've changed in response to Tenma becoming captain. I actually imagine that Tsurugi had a very easy time with it; he’d been following Tenma’s lead quite a lot in season 1 already.

Finally, season 3. It starts out pretty great, actually - their teamwork is great. One thing of note is that Tenma, at least, switched to calling Shindou ‘Shindou-san’ somewhere between season 2 and 3, I'm not certain about Tsurugi - he doesn't often call Shindou by name but I think he already called him that? Or switches multiple times? - but it shows that Tenma is much more comfortable with Shindou than before. At least, until the start of their disagreement over the Inazuma Japan team.

Season 3. Damn, what a ride.

I mean, I’m sure everyone remembers Shindou and Tenma in this. Pretty hard to forget, really. Shindou’s angry, frustrated, incredibly emotional and basically seems to revert back to how he was at the start of season 1. He seems to be taking it all out on Tenma and Ibuki; which while not fair is at least understandable. Tenma’s constantly disagreeing with him, someone Shindou believes should have the same opinion as him, whereas Ibuki keeps on challenging him.

The funny thing is, this doesn’t affect their teamwork at all.

In the first episodes, it’s Tsurugi, Shindou and Tenma basically doing all the work during the matches, and it is their incredible teamwork that gets the team through the first stages of an intergalactic championship, which, damn, is pretty impressive if you ask me. They’re arguing but still in sync, and I love that. The three of them have always been a great combo when playing soccer, whereas outside of that they definitely weren’t - they’re perfectly balanced yet horridly incompatible. The contradiction is incredible with those three.

Something else I noticed is that, even after Tenma’s been captain for quite a while, he still follows Shindou’s orders without question, and Shindou still orders him around without hesitation. And yet Shindou doesn’t overstep; he’s very clearly not trying to be captain anymore, and in the instances Tenma thinks he’s wrong, Tenma is not afraid to disagree.

Tsurugi, during the early episodes of season 3, is really the eye of the storm. While Shindou seems to have a pretty short temper around Tenma, that’s not the case when he’s around Tsurugi, and there’s multiple instances where he asks for Tsurugi’s opinion. At the same time, Tsurugi doesn’t make it any harder for Tenma, either; he really stays out of it. Lmao he basically saw Tenma and Shindou fighting and went ‘’oh hell no I don’t want any part of this’’, so he’s really the neutral ground between them (and then he gets kidnapped pretty quickly, sooo…).

Of course everything gets turned upside down when they find out about the whole alien thing, and though Shindou doesn’t argue with Tenma anymore, he does put a lot on his shoulders.

He’s not wrong, per se, but way to put pressure on the kid! Which, fair, he is the captain, but Shindou, honey, c’mon. You know Tenma. You know how he’s gonna take this.

So yeah, I don’t think that Tenma at any moment in Galaxy beyond the first and last episode is actually happy. Even when he’s cheerful, he’s constantly trying to keep a team that’s falling apart at the seams together - do you see the parallels here with Shindou in season 1? - or gauging their mood, or dealing with internal conflicts, or arguing with Shindou (and to some degree Tsurugi), or dealing with the stress of being the captain that has to save the entirety of humankind. Even when he's laughing, there's no way he's able to let go of that fully, no way he can be carefree. Despite outward appearances, Tenma in season 3 is so fundamentally different from Tenma in season 1. There’s no freedom, no fun, no ‘wind of the revolution’ when that is exactly what his character has been about all along. He's restrained. He's pushed into a mold he doesn't fit into, by everything and everyone around him, and the ones who know him, who could've put a stop to this - they don't see it happening. An extra interesting detail is, Tenma rarely reaches out to his friends when it's about himself or his issues, it's only when they notice that something's wrong and confront him that he actually opens up. And Tenma, in season 3, has become a lot better at keeping up appearances - understandable, since the whole spiel is that he has to be the captain, has to keep everyone's spirits high, and he cannot allow them to see him hesitating and worrying. It's actually probably not a good thing that he learns that lesson, because it means it'll be even easier for him to smile and say he's fine and divert people away from the fact that he's struggling. And then to add to that, Tsurugi and Shindou, people he would usually depend on and let down the mask for, aren't there.

Y'see, in season 1, Tenma is never really alone - despite the rocky start, he’s got Shinsuke and Aoi. In season 2, he’s alone for a while before Fei comes and by the time Fei betrays him, he’s got Raimon with him again. In season 3, Tenma is cut off from Raimon, pushed away by Shindou and Tsurugi, not opening up to Aoi, surrounded by a team that expects things of him as captain that no one has before, and Tenma is alone. And he has to deal with that. Learn from it. Grow with it. Find himself again, and he does. And that is the growth Tenma goes through in season 3.

To be honest, all three of them have their own stories in Galaxy, kinda like in season 1 but whereas in season 1 it converges from separate places to the same path, in season 3 it’s the opposite - they come from the same story and then split up. Tenma with his learning how to stand alone; Shindou with letting go of his steadfast opinion; Tsurugi with, uh, getting kidnapped by aliens?

Not gonna lie, one of those three doesn’t quite feel the same as the others…

Seriously though, Tsurugi’s arc in Galaxy is a little less introspective than the others, I think. Now that I’m thinking about it, maybe it’s about stepping up more? Previously he just went along with Raimon a lot. He’s a relatively quiet character and happy to leave the decisions and speeches to Shindou and Tenma - to be honest, in Chrono Stone when he was acting captain for one of the El Dorado/Raimon teams against the Second Stage Children, I was a bit startled before remembering that canonically, Tsurugi was captain previously. He never seemed to care much for the position. Like I said, he’s always followed along with Tenma, and he’s always been easy with following Shindou’s commands as well. But in season 3 that switches - he’s left alone, but it’s very different from Tenma’s situation. He’s becoming much more proactive in trying to convince Lalaya that her planet sucks, that she doesn’t need no man to be Queen, and most interestingly to me - the whole development with him becoming captain of Faram Dite. He steps up in a way he doesn’t really do in the rest of the anime.

To be honest, Tsurugi’s a hard character to pin down because he’s so quiet and composed most of the time. One thing about him, though, is that he’s got a major guilt complex. Just look at the whole situation with his brother, the fact that he blames himself has driven him for years before the anime even starts. It’s the reason he’s with Fifth Sector. After Tenma and Yuuichi give him that much needed reality check, Tsurugi backs down a lot and stays quiet. I think, and mind you this is all speculation - I think Tsurugi is afraid. Afraid of making choices, afraid of speaking up, of speaking his mind out loud. He follows Tenma, and Raimon’s, lead a lot, and while I think he does agree with them and doesn’t hesitate speak up after they already did so, I also think for a long while he would not be the first one to openly speak his mind. He’s been through a lot. He’s made mistakes, big mistakes (coughcough-joining Fifth Sector-coughcough) that you can’t blame him for considering the situation and the fact he was a literal kid when he joined Fifth Sector, but with what we’ve seen with his guilt complex with Yuuichi, who’s to say Tsurugi doesn’t blame himself? It’s like he needs the confirmation from Raimon that yes, this is the right choice, before he decides to speak up.

And in Galaxy, that changes. He’s left alone, no example to follow, dealing with a girl who’s even more afraid of making mistakes than he is, and for good reason. Lalaya has the lives of an entire planet on her shoulders, and she reaches out to Tsurugi because she has no faith in herself at all. Kind of like Tsurugi has no faith in himself either unless an outside source - Tenma, Yuuichi, Raimon - confirms it. Suddenly this girl is looking towards him for his approval on her decisions, same way he’s always done, and she doesn’t see what he does - that she doesn’t need it, that she can stand on her own. And Tsurugi committing to helping her, making that his priority rather than getting back to the Earth Eleven - and then, of course, switching sides and joining Faram Dite, knowing Earth Eleven won’t understand, Tenma won’t understand, won’t approve, and doing it anyway. For the first time in a long while, Tsurugi makes a choice because he believes it’s right, regardless of what anyone else thinks. That’s his character growth.

This already is eight pages, but now I’m committed, lol. Two down, one more to go!

Shindou Takuto. Honey, what a mess you are.

I could talk for ages about the impact that his rich kid life and likely demanding family would have on him. He’d be one of those ‘’piano lessons, Chinese lessons, fencing lessons’’ kids that get so much pressure put on his shoulders at a young age, to be perfect, to be worthy of the family name. I don’t think his family’s necessary neglectful or bad or anything! He gets to play soccer a lot, and it’s clearly because he likes it. But I do think that Shindou is an incredibly intelligent kid, and he’s always been pushed to perform the absolute best in whatever he does. It’s why he cracks under the pressure in season 1, when everything is falling apart around him, when the one thing he’s got for fun, because he loves it - soccer - becomes just as stressful, or even more so, as everything else in his life.

Season 3’s interesting, because from every damn side, Shindou is told he’s wrong.

A team of amateurs, when from basically his first appearance in season 1 it’s so damn obvious how much the Raimon team means to him. It’s a disgrace, not to him but to his friends, and Tenma - who should by all means agree with him completely - doesn’t seem to care. His plans are denied, his ideas are denied, except during matches. And these amateurs are just trampling over everything he believes in, everything his friends have worked so hard for, everything he holds so dear and hurt for and cried for and they don’t even have the grace to care. No wonder he hates them. No wonder he hates Ibuki, because Ibuki doesn’t understand a single thing about it but still has the gall to pretend he’s worthy of the position of keeper. Ibuki tries but not because he gives a damn about what Shindou believes in, but because of spite (I don’t actually think this about Ibuki lol, but I think Shindou would, I’m writing this from his perspective). The Inazuma Japan team spits on everything Shindou and his friends have fought and cried and bled for and he’s told to suck it up. No wonder he’s angry.

But, of course, things get a little better when they do start trying, for real, and keep trying. And then the whole hahaha-hey-you’re-actually-fighting-aliens thing gets revealed, and, well, new priorities and all that.

But still, Shindou’s stuck in his own head. Still dealing with a team he may or may not even like (don’t recall tbh). And at this point, Tenma’s retreated into his shell again (which, fair enough! Shindou hasn’t exactly been supportive and Tenma’s insecurities are acting up! There’s no way he’ll be the first to reach out again if he’s not sure it’s welcome - but Shindou, at this point, has missed all of Tenma’s angst because he’s keeping it quiet, so Shindou doesn’t know to reach out either! Which is also fair!! But they’re just in a continuous spiral at this point, rip) and Tsurugi is kidnapped by an alien queen like five episodes into the whole space adventure, which I’m gonna say is a fair reason not to have great communication at the moment. Also, honestly, both Tenma and Shindou not realizing something’s wrong with Tsurugi is a bit questionable but they both have so much going on in their own heads, plus the pressure of, y’know, trying not to get the earth destroyed, so I’m gonna give them a pass for this one.

Anyway. Shindou is put in a situation where things are, to him, completely spiraling out of control. He never wanted any of this - in fact, he probably was super excited for the international tournament, to just have fun for once and now the whole Grand Celesta Galaxy mess happens, poor kid. He has an idea of how things should be, within the team, at least, and he has such a hard time letting that go. He’s bad at adjusting. He’s not like Tenma. He doesn’t see the good in people as easily as Tenma does, he doesn’t adapt as easily as Tenma does (the wind is adaptable, haha) to this situation, doesn’t go, ‘’okay, I’ll make the best of this’’. He’s prideful, and used to, while not everything going his way, at least knowing his place, about having a certain image of the world around him, good or bad, and for once it doesn’t match up to his expectations at all, and he can’t change it, can only get through it. I’m very tired right now so I don’t think I can explain it very well, my words aren’t working (I’ll probably make a separate character analysis for Shindou at some point where I touch upon this again), but I think that Shindou is a person who needs some sort of control. His whole theme is music, being a music conductor, the strategist, calling the shots, and in Galaxy that’s taken away and he doesn’t know the stage, or the players and that might be similar in a way to Chrono Stone - but in Chrono Stone he still has the majority of his team, his support system, and in Galaxy he only has Tenma and Tsurugi and I just discussed why that whole thing isn’t working out. All he can do is get through it... alone.

Isn't it funny how that's a reoccurring theme with all of them?

Y’know, now I’m reminded of his Kami no Takuto hissatsu. How he directs the entire team like it’s a play or an orchestra. They do exactly what he wants them to and maybe that’s lulled him into a false sense of security. It might even go beyond that - his family demands perfectionism, tells him that if you just work hard enough, you can get everything, be everything, you want. That life will work how you want it to. But it doesn’t. He can’t strategize the entire world to his liking, and that’s okay.

And the fun part about all this? By the end of Galaxy, these three haven’t reconnected.

Oh, it certainly seems like it, because they concluded their own respective arcs. Tenma learns how to be captain and how to be true to himself. Tsurugi learns how to make his own choices and stop being afraid. Shindou learns to be patient and let go of his preconceived notions. They learn their lessons but they never talk about this. They grow, again, as they always do throughout the entire series, and rarely if ever do they talk about it, but why should they? They were together for the entire journey, right next to one another, so why should they tell each other what happened when they’ve all witnessed it?

Except in Galaxy they don’t. They weren’t on the same path. They’ve missed things, and now they’re, sort of, still assuming that the others will just understand because it always worked that way, right? So they don’t talk. And by the end of the season, they haven’t talked, despite the misunderstandings and the hurts. And oh, that’s an opportunity for angst I’m having so much fun exploring in my stories😈

Okay, I got like, so carried away with this. How did this turn into a character analysis for the Raimon GO Trio?? How did it get so long?? This was never the intention. To quote AR!Tenma…

Oops?

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